


Cinnamon Rolls

by Hopeamarsu



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Baked Goods, Fluff, Food, Gen, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeamarsu/pseuds/Hopeamarsu
Summary: When food and forehead kisses are a love language.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Kudos: 14





	Cinnamon Rolls

The Zimmerman family never showed their love with words and over-affectionate gestures. “I love you” wasn’t a frequent phrase in the household, nor were hugs or kisses. But that didn’t mean that the household was at a loss for love, not at all. It was just shown differently.

It was shown to young Philip by his father taking him on fishing trips, teaching him how to use a knife to cut said fish. Then as they brought it home, his mother would cook it for the whole family, the smell of spices mingling in the air. 

It was in the way his father would always pick him up from after practice and tell him how to drive a stick-shift. How his mother would look him in the eyes with understanding in her eyes when he came home from school annoyed at his classmates. How they both were at the station as he was sworn in as a detective. 

There was also one thing that Flip’s mother did when she was feeling affectionate. She would nudge her tall son, make him bend a little, and place a warm kiss on his forehead. This gesture, the ultimate prize of her love, was given when Flip did something good, like be selfless and help her with dishes without being asked to, and he loved those moments. To him, nothing signified love better than that. 

As Flip got older, he realized that there were other means to show affection, but those childhood memories stuck to him closely. How he felt when he got to spend a day with his father at the lake, how his mother’s cooking would smell as he stepped inside the house and how something blossomed in his chest every time he got that forehead kiss. He had never found anyone to gift it to, none of his fleeting relationships with previous girlfriends had ever given him the overwhelming feeling of kissing their forehead. 

Well, until you that is. 

Flip wanted to kiss you so bad, pull you into his arms, and just keep you there. He wanted to trace his lips against your features, let his hand smooth down your back and sides, enjoy the feeling of melting into your embrace. Most of all, he wanted that blossoming sensation in his chest as his lips met your forehead and, if he was lucky enough, he’d hear your sigh of pleasure at the gesture. 

You’d been working at the CSPD for six months. During this time Flip had found himself falling deeper and deeper with you, your smile, your fragrance, and your laugh. But most of all, he’d fallen in love with your kindness; how you knew how to help out an elderly lady who’d lost their purse, soothe the scared little kid that had wandered into the station alone, and how you knew exactly when to bring in a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls from the cafe nearby for the overworking detectives.

Speaking of said sweets, Flip could already smell the delicious scent of those rolls from the hallway just as the words on the document started to blend together. It was like you had a sixth sense for this; they’d been up to their necks with this investigation for days and the endless amounts of paperwork were eating them all up. A pick-me-up was definitely welcome. 

From the corner of his eye, Flip spied Ron lifting his head from his own stack when his partner caught a whiff of the same scent. It was almost funny how his head twirled towards the door, eagerly waiting to see the plate of goodies that you enter the bullpen any second now. _One of the food gremlins had woken up then._

“Ah, perfect timing!” Ron declared as you stepped into the bullpen, arms full with two big plates piled high with the sweet treats. The rookie jumped up from his seat to assist you with Jimmy, _the second food gremlin_ , hot on his heels. 

Flip placed the report down but remained on his seat for a moment longer. It would be better to wait out those two gremlins as they pawed at the rolls, two for each, before venturing closer to the heavenly plates. He knew you’d make sure all the detectives would get a roll or two, even if you were faced with Ron’s puppy eyes. Fair was fair and the treats were for all. 

“Save something for the rest of us. Gremlins, both of you. No manners,” He quipped, finally rising up and crossing the room with quick steps, stopping right next to you. Jimmy just flipped him the bird, the first of his rolls already gobbled down. Ron was happily back at his seat, taking huge bites of his treasure.

You radiated heat and Flip was drawn to it, the warmth spreading through his body like wild-fire whenever he was close to you. This was the second reason why he opted to stay behind the gremlins when food was available. It offered him a chance to share a word or two with you, maybe even earn a laugh, as he enjoyed the tingling on his skin more than he cared to admit out loud. 

He picked up one of the rolls, the sugar melting in his fingertips. The smell was stronger now: notes of vanilla, cinnamon, butter, and burnt sugar mixing with your natural scent, creating a unique mix that should really be bottled and sold to the masses. Or sold just to Flip, so he could bathe in it forever. He never was good with sharing. 

“Hello, Detective. Tough case?” You smiled at him, eyes lighting up in that sweet way Flip adored. He often wondered what he could do to make those eyes light up more. How would they look as Flip traced your cheekbones, neck, and shoulders with his fingers or mouth. If he would get to witness the heat in your eyes and eyelashes flutter against your skin as you’d enjoy his gentle touch. 

“Mmm, yeah. The worst.” He mused, bringing the tasty treat to his lips. The first bite was always the best, almost orgasmic. His teeth sank into the warm dough and his palette was filled with the wonderful taste of spices and the richness of butter mixing together. More than once Flip had had to contain a moan inside, it wouldn’t do good to let that out and make a fool of himself in your presence. Today was no exception. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I am sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so. It looks like another long evening though.” Flip gestured at the piles upon piles of reports stacked on all three desks and watched your eyes widen. You could hardly see Jimmy from behind his piles and Ron was grappling for his phone, buried somewhere under all the papers. You spied Flip’s desk too, overflowing with papers and empty coffee cups. 

You tapped your lips a couple of times, clearly contemplating the issue in front of you. Curious eyes swept across the bullpen and took in the boxes in the corner, no doubt filled with more files and reports. You turned your eyes to the dark-haired detective, taking in the dark circles under his eyes as he looked back at you, waiting to hear what you might say. 

It seemed that this was not a one-time thing, a long evening at the station with only the coffeemaker and vending machine to accompany the men. Decision made, you hastily calculated that this month's coffee budget would be able to take a small extra charge.

“Well, in that case, let me order dinner for all of you. Burgers and shakes work for you boys?” 

The two food gremlins cheered at the idea of more food, but Flip was rendered speechless. _You would do that, make sure that they had a hot meal today, on top of the wonderful treats you had already brought?_ It was almost unconscious as he stepped into your orbit, so close that your bodies brushed up against each other. Flip dipped his head and placed a kiss on your forehead, wrapping a long arm around your waist to keep you near him. Lips lingered a moment on your skin before he spoke softly against it. 

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

Flip’s eyes flew wide open as his mind registered just what he had done and said. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What had just happened?_

Slowly, oh so slowly, Flip let go of your waist and stepped back, stuffing his hand into his jeans pocket to resist any temptation to reach out. Immediately he missed your warmth next to him, how well you fit under his arm and against his body, what your skin had felt against his dry lips. It had only taken this small moment to become addicted and his body craved more instantly. 

He felt embarrassed at his strong reaction and Flip could already feel the heat creep up his neck. He didn’t dare to look at Ron or Jimmy, he knew those two couldn’t wait to tease him. Instead, Flip searched your face, anxious to see your reaction. He hoped he hadn’t scared you too bad with his forward and un-gentlemanly ways. 

His amber eyes locked into yours, ready to apologize and explain himself, but how you looked at him stopped him before Flip could open his mouth. There was something captivating in those orbs and he found himself unable to look away. He felt like he was being measured for something, but for what, Flip couldn’t tell. As the seconds ticked by, your eyes turned thoughtful and he swallowed nervously.

Then there was a flash of understanding like you had reached a conclusion. You regarded Flip for a moment longer before rising up to your toes and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. It lasted only for a second or two, your lips against his scruff, but it was enough for the memory to be etched into his soul. As soon as it was over, Flip wanted you to do it again. And again. And again, until the end of time. 

“No problem, sweetie. Could I tempt you to join me in picking the food up?” You murmured, your eyes now sparkling, your voice a little husky. His arm, the one he had extracted before, wound its way back to your waist and he pulled you flush to his chest. 

“The gremlins will survive. How about I take you to dinner instead?” His head dipped again as he claimed your lips to his, ignoring the whistles of the men in the bullpen.


End file.
